A Fair Facade
by Libby16
Summary: "Oh how deliciously tempting your words are Sanae." Oh how tempting they were. They were almost tempting enough to cause him to take action. "But I can't do that to him. He has deserved his rest. He's at peace now." "Well, you've still got the rest of eternity to decide." (Mentions of Joshua/Neku)


Fingers thrummed in petulance on the ebony metal of the throne. A figure bathed in light turned his lips down in a scowl. He summoned his Producer hours ago. No turnout, as was expected.

In a flash, a winged figure appeared in the middle of the vast room. "It took you long enough," the moon-lit figure scowled – tardiness being one of his greater peeves.

"Sorry boss, just closing up shop. Kids are swarming it nowadays, all looking for a cup a' joe," Hanekoma smirked, his iridescent wings retracting.

"A pitiful excuse, _Sanae_." the Composer grew more annoyed.

Hanekoma scoffed slightly, "so what's up?" He knew all too well that this visit wasn't one of pleasure.

Joshua sighed, his eyebrows pulling together. "As you are aware," he put his utter being into sounding formal and emotionless, but Hanekoma could easily see through the fair façade. His voice faltered a moment; he paused to clear his throat. "As you are aware of tomorrow's significance, I would like very much to be left in isolation for the duration of the twenty-four hours."

The Producer's eyes widened slightly and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, I can do that boss." Silence. The Composer was in no mood to speak, his mask of steel was holding resilient, and, try as he might, Hanekoma wouldn't be able to break the barrier.

"I've decided to postpone the game another day," Joshua stated after a few moments. Hanekoma quirked an eyebrow in silent questioning. "It would not be proper to start the game tomorrow."

"Jeez, I don't know how many more souls we can store. With the souls adding on today and the ones we'll get tomorrow, I think there'd be too many in the game. Reapers wouldn't know what to do with all the hype." Hanekoma tried to reason. The Composer waved his hand dismissively. It mattered little to him. "All right, whatever boss." Silence again. "So I'm assuming I can leave now?"

"Actually, I'd like it very much if you could stay. I'd appreciate the company for a moment, though I still am rather peeved at your tardiness."

Hanekoma chuckled, "of course you are." He took his seat (a small lawn chair that had abruptly materialized) next to the Composer and took a position of relaxation.

Joshua gazed distantly to the opposite end of the room, his eyes unfocused and yet alert at the same time. It became evident that Hanekoma would have to pry at Joshua if he were to gain answers. "Josh, why didn't you just let him play the game again?"

The Composer snapped his head around and glared daggers at his Producer. "That is not your business."

"Sorry, just curious." Silence.

Joshua sighed, slumping his shoulders slightly. "If you must know, it was because I couldn't."

"Of course you could, all deceased are granted access into the game, if you allow them to."

"No, that's not what I meant. I could have very easily let him try again for life, but I couldn't do that to him. He suffered enough the first times he played. He said that I couldn't see it, but those weeks were very hard on him. He was wrong. I saw all too well how those weeks tested him, pushed him, _tortured_ him. I couldn't put him through that once more." By the end, Joshua had completely hunched over, the regal appearance of the Composer of Shibuya long lost to grief. The mask had been broken.

"Ya think?" Hanekoma asked after a moment.

"Actually, Sanae, I _know_." Joshua could no longer look at his Producer.

"You know there are ways to bring him back. I could run his file through the council and he could be considered for acceptance as an angel on the higher plane. If he doesn't like life there then he could become your Conductor," Hanekoma suggested.

"Oh how deliciously tempting your words are Sanae." Oh how tempting they were. They were almost tempting enough to cause him to take action. "But I can't do that to him. He has deserved his rest. He's at peace now."

"Well, you've still got the rest of eternity to decide."

"But think, in seventy years' time Shiki, Beat, and Rhyme will have all passed on too. They will have regained their memories that I took of him and be reunited. If I took that away from him, how would he ever forgive me?"

"You took their memories of Neku?" Hanekoma gasped.

Joshua nodded solemnly. "It was to ease their grief. They still had their memories of each other, but they were no longer in pain over Neku."

"Wow boss, you actually do have a heart," Hanekoma joked lightheartedly.

"That I do Sanae, that I do, and at the moment, it hurts. It's…_strange_…this feeling. It feels heavy in my chest. I've never experienced this, what is it?"

The Producer gave a genuine smile to the Composer. "It's everything you ever felt for Neku weighing you down. Your attachment to him, your bond, and now that's all mixed with grief. You're mourning."

"Heh. So that's what mourning feels like. You'd think a year would have eased the ache."

"Sometimes, Joshua, it doesn't ever go away. The pain doesn't ever fade because of the relationship you had with the other person. Ya know, I miss Phones myself."

Joshua buried his head in his hands. "One of these days, I will outlaw all automobiles in Shibuya."

"Just know that it wasn't you that took his life this time."

"You know, I almost wish it was me who had taken it. That way I'd have the small consolation that I had had a hand in it and that it was my own doing. That it was my own hand who had taken the life, not hubcaps and metal."

"That's kinda messed up, boss."

Silence once more reigned. It wasn't until Hanekoma noticed the small trembles of the Composer's form that he truly understood the power of Neku Sakuraba. It was only he that could make the all-powerful Composer _human_. Only he could delve into the layers of the Composer's frigid outer shell and warm him from the inside out – he knew how to get under his _skin_. Only he could make the Composer, in the slightest sense, _weak_.

"I miss him. _So much_." The composer quaked with sobs, liquid cascading down his cheeks and dripping off his pointed chin.

Softly, Hanekoma asked, "did you love him?"

The Composer didn't reply until the shaking had stopped, tears still flowing freely. "No."

Sanae Hanekoma could easily see through the fair façade.

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**Hope you enjoyed. Reviews are love!**


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